


Can't Get Close Enough To You

by Sashataakheru



Category: Political RPF - Australian 20th-21st c.
Genre: BDSM, Cock Cages, Collars, D/s, F/M, Hatesex, Humiliation, Leashes, Leather, Masturbation, Obedience, Orgasm Control, Pegging, Politics, Power Kink, Restraints, Secret Relationships, Subspace, Teasing, Training, Whipping, fantasties, releasing anger, secret liaisons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 04:58:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sashataakheru/pseuds/Sashataakheru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is something indescribably arousing about watching his Domme ripping into him in Parliament. He knows it'll make for amazing sex when they're both riled up at each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Get Close Enough To You

**Author's Note:**

> @mearesy tweeted [this](https://twitter.com/mearesy/status/329934220912898048) tonight, I still had my 750words.com to do, and, well, this turned up. I REGRET NOTHING.

There were moments where Tony wondered whether he ought to be more deferential to his Domme as she stood opposite him in Parliament. But it was not a thought that troubled him for very long. In the House of Representatives, they were bitter, sworn enemies. He would call her a liar and an illegitimate Prime Minister, and she would continually call him a misogynist, and somehow, it seemed to cancel out when they were together in private, in a place no one ever knew about. 

She'd whisper it to him as she yanked on the leash clipped to the collar around his neck. She'd pull him close, and her breath would touch his skin so gently it made him shiver, and he would hear nothing but feminist filth in his ear as she allowed herself to release all the pain she carried with her that she could not release in any other place or time. The insults were unutterably vulgar, and so utterly personal, Tony often carried them with him for weeks afterwards. They drove him, most of the time. His anger in public and the way he railed against her were all driven by what she said to him in those intensely private moments.

She would lay him bare and strip him down to nothing, touching every bloody raw nerve he had. She knew just how to weaken him and make him hurt, and it turned him on so much, he could barely bring himself to stop. He would let her scream and rage at him in those moments when she really needed it, and he'd be there, just a body to hold, silent and calm and passive. He would hold her, if she asked him to. He would let her rage at him because he knew she had no one else to rage at. She took everything he threw at her in public with a quiet strength; he did admire her for that. She never seemed rattled by his insults. But in the quiet stillness of the night, when they were isolated from the world, she fought back, and he took it all, knowing it was all he deserved, and loving that she could give as good as she got. 

Sometimes, Tony idly wondered if they'd be able to exist without each other. Would Tony be so angry and keen to fight without her to fire him up? Would she be so keen to rage at him if Turnbull was still Opposition Leader? Tony often felt they both drew on each other's power, like two generals from opposing armies respecting and hating each other as equals. 

Tony had never much liked authority, anyway, at least, not the sort that forced itself upon him and was very much against everything he cared about. That kind of authority he hated. In many ways, Julia was the very kind of authority he hated, and not just because he coveted her job. She was a woman who had more power than he did, and that also frustrated him. Another man would have been easier to wound. Julia is not another man, and she requires a different approach, one he detests using, which might be why he never does. 

She often reminds him that he had every chance to be Prime Minister after the 2010 election. The playing field was spread equal. She was just a better negotiator, and that still hurt to think about, that Tony had been so close to the highest elected office in the land, and had been denied by a woman who had cruelly disposed of a sitting Prime Minister before his first term was even up. Tony hated that so very much. 

And yet, he often found himself more in love with her than he would ever dare express as she slowly, agonisingly, bound his wrists to the wooden frame, and secured his manhood in a metal prison. She cuckolded him, castrated him, made him feel impotent and weak. And yet, as she whipped him, he could not help his arousal. She raged at him, called him names and threatened to humiliate him, and he found himself so hard and unable to come at all. His cock would ache so much, and she would tease him all night, drawing out his pleasure until she had decided he had earnt it. 

Some nights, she did not give it to him. She would torture him all night, and send him home, keen and frustrated. She had taken her pleasure from him, and left him wanting. He would never take it for himself, though, not for a long time afterwards, when he was sure she would not immediately find out, though even then, he sometimes didn't touch himself at all, unable to find any comfort in his own ability to give himself pleasure. It wasn't the same if she wasn't doing it.

There were nights, alone in his Canberra flat, where he would lie on his bed, once she was done with him, and be unable to touch his hard prick. He was not confined or caged; he could have touched himself if he'd really wanted to. But he just sat there, watching his aching cock slowly soften. The pleasure and arousal would fade away to nothing, and once it was gone, Tony knew it would be impossible to get it back again. He would sometimes try imagining what she would do to bring him pleasure, but even that was not enough. He often felt like he would be disobeying her if he brought himself pleasure. It was always hers alone to give.

He sat opposite her in the House, trying to concentrate on government business. He would try his best to focus on what he was meant to focus on, and try not to look too enamoured with her when she went off in a rage, lashing out at him and his party with every ounce of energy she had. She looked like Boudicea in full flight, a warrior with a purpose keen to cut down all her patriarchal enemies. Tony never fancied her more in those moments, and he had learnt over the years to suppress his arousal, just to ensure he did not embarrass himself.

And yet, he would often be unable to stop himself thinking of all the times she'd bound him, whipped him, fucked him, caged and castrated him. He could see her, dressed in leather, a strap-on waiting to impale him, and he would want it so badly he would have to discretely leave the chamber and find somewhere completely private to relieve himself. 

She found him once, when that had happened. Tony felt a little bad for hiding away in a disabled toilet, but it was more private there, and less likely to be seen by anyone. But she'd found him some time later, and teased him so badly he was begging for more by the time she was done with him. The last thing she whispered to him before she left him, naked and unsatisfied, was to meet him in their usual place, where she would leave him so spent he would be unable to move. If he had not been so well-trained, he would have come then and there at the very thought of it. Instead, she merely squeezed his cock one last time and left him alone. 

Tony spent an hour there, trying to bring himself back into some sort of composed state, fit to be seen in public. He had, reluctantly, let the arousal inside him fade, hoping there would be a pay-off if he waited. As always, she had done him over, and left him badly unprepared and frustrated. She smiled in that knowing way, and knew she had brought him to his knees. He knew, in his heart, that he would always be on his knees begging for more. No one loved him like she did.


End file.
